Note: This is set after the season two episode "Old Friend, New Enemy".

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1. Water

"How do you feel?" Max asked.

Kat groaned into the thin sickbay pillow. Her whole body ached, and her ankle - where Biocon's fangs had sunk in - felt like it had been set on fire and then stomped out.

Still, it was a big improvement from the last time she'd come to: right after the antivenom had flushed the worst of it out of her system. At least now she was in a real bed with sheets and blankets and everything.

"Like I got bitten by a big ugly snake," she said. Her voice sounded scratchy. Felt scratchy, too.

A chuckle. "Yeah... You did."

"Did you get him?" she asked. When he didn't anwer right away, she begrudgingly cracked open her eyes and glared, blearily. "Don't make me repeat myself, Steel."

He was looking at the floor, shoulders slumped. "No. I didn't get him. I think he might - be dead."

"Oh," she said. She pushed herself up on her elbows and blinked, trying to focus. "Sorry. You didn't -?"

Max sat back with a heavy exhale. "I kinda wanted to," he admitted. "But I guess it's okay, in the end. That wasn't Dr. Klimo anymore, you know? I don't know if the guy I remember was even the real deal."

"Still sucks," Kat said. She coughed, trying to get the sandpaper feeling out of her throat.

"Yeah." He glanced at her, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away again. "Kat. I just - I'm so sorry. I shouldn'tve let him - I mean, I'm your partner, I should've -"

"Quit whining," she interrupted. "Help your partner and give her some water, huh?"

She gestured at the cup and pitcher standing just out of her reach. He practically jumped to bring it to her, and she took a long, highly satisfying pull of cool deliciousness that mostly got rid of the scratchy feeling.

Max stayed next to the bed, leaning on the metal rail. He still had guilt tattooed all over his face. "I should've noticed you needed help sooner."

Kat rolled her eyes. "You're whining again. Look, I got hurt. That's gonna happen when I run around with a bunch of freaks. But I'm alive, I'm okay, and if you keep angsting over stuff, I'll show you I'm okay by kicking your ass. Okay?"

He was obviously taken aback, but after a moment, a grin spread out, replacing the guilt. "Okay."

"Could use some more water, though," she said, tossing him the empty cup. He sketched a mock salute, still grinning, and fetched her another drink.

"I have to go," he said when he brought it to her. "Dad wants to debrief me or something. But I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I think we've established that," she said drily.

"I think we have." He studied her for a long second, then bent down and kissed her cheek, soft and quick - but very certain. "So, um - later," he said, beating a swift retreat from the infirmary room.

Kat blinked, incredulous, then took a drink of water that did nothing to stop her face from turning pink or a wave of giggles from bubbling up.

The pillow did help to muffle it, though.